In early 2000, I was a 26 year old contestant in
a karaoke contest at a Skowhegan, Maine bowling alley/restaurant and lounge. If
you made it to the finals you had the chance of winning $1000. I was excited
because I loved to sing and we could really use the money. Back then, I was
working three jobs and helping my, now former, husband get through nursing
school. He would be graduating in just over a month and starting what would be
his lifelong career. Myself, I was a medical biller for a mental health facility
making just over $9/hour. I was also working for a temp agency and sang in a
band almost every weekend until the wee hours of the morning.
The few trips we had made out of the state
included Virginia, Florida, Tennessee and Washington, DC. This time, however, I
would have to be making a trip alone. Washington D.C. in the dead of night was
going to be quite the challenge.
The evening that I won my preliminary round of
the contest I was told the date of the finals. My jaw dropped. It was the only
weekend that I would not even be in Maine. The people who ran the contest
looked at me incredulously. They told me I HAD to be there because I had a
really good shot at winning. I needed to make a decision.
The reason I would not be able to participate
was because we had promised my sister, who had never driven anywhere by
herself, that we would travel to DC with her for the weekend. She was a huge
fan of the television show, Emergency!, and her favorite actor, Randolph
Mantooth, was going to be there that same weekend of the contest. He was the
guest of honor at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. There
was going to be a display of memorabilia from the show and he would be there to
introduce it. She really wanted to meet him.
I couldn’t be in two places at once.
When I told my husband he asked what we were
going to do. We talked with my sister and hatched the plan to have him drive
down with her in her car and spend the one night in the hostel we had all found
in a travel book. I would drive down as soon at the contest was over and meet
them at the Washington Monument the next morning at 8am.
At 5 am the day of the contest I wished my
husband a safe trip and he left to meet my sister to travel the nearly 600
miles to their destination. I tried to go back to sleep. I took the day off
specifically for that purpose but to no avail. I had always been a morning
person and that day was no different.
I packed a light bag for the trip because I
knew, win or lose, we were staying overnight and traveling back the next day.
As luck would have it, I won the contest and the $1000 prize!. It was 10
o’clock at night and after changing my clothes I climbed into my 1993 Mercury
Tracer and headed for the highway.
In 2000, I had an actual map. That’s it. No GPS.
No cell phone. No English woman’s voice on an app to help guide me. It was me
and the Rand McNally Road Atlas of the United States. I would travel I-95 South
the entire way down.
As soon as I hit the Massachusetts border I
noticed something peculiar. There were no cars. The only vehicles on the road
were tractor trailers. When you’re under five feet tall in a compact car and
there are semis in front, behind and to each side of you, you start to feel a
bit nervous. I kept wondering if they could even see me at all. I found an
opportunity to get to the right travel lane. I put my blinker on and it just so
happened the truck in front of me put its blinker on. I moved over and so did
they. When he would change lanes I did as well. This went on for a little
while.
I finally had to pull over. Being awake for
almost 20 hours was starting to take its toll on me. It was nearly 2 am and,
though I had packed an overnight bag, I had failed to pack snacks. I saw the
sign for the next rest stop and realized the truck was also going to rest as
well. I parked my car and went to the McDonald’s to order food and a drink with
caffeine. I never drank caffeinated drinks but I needed to stay awake for the
rest of the drive. I looked at around at the people coming inside the building
wondering if the truck driver who had been my guide was one of the patrons
filing in.
I finished my late night snack, used the
facilities and headed out. I filled the car with gas and started back on my
way. I pulled back onto the highway with another six hour drive ahead of me.
About ten minutes down the road a truck pulled
up alongside me and I saw a light go on in the cab. I saw a manly hand wave at
me but that was all I could see. I turned my light on and waved back. Our
lights went out and I heard his air horn blare. He sped up and pulled in front
of me.
My truck driver was back!
Sure enough, the license plate was the same.
It’s hard to forget when you were staring at the back end of the same truck for
hours. Together until we reached DC the semi and I changed lanes. The driver
would always wait for an opportunity to make certain I had enough space to
change lanes with him.
The sun was starting to come up and the miles
melted away. I started to see signs for the DC area. I knew I had to start
following them. My hand reached for the signal but I didn’t really want to. I
had followed the same truck for nearly 400 miles. I considered it and its
driver my guardian angels. I flicked the blinker on to take the exit and I
could see his hand wave out his window. I rolled down mine and waved back. He
blew his horn and I exited the highway to find the Monument and my waiting
family.
I’ll never know who he was or what triggered him
to stay with me for so long or remember the name of the company he drove for.
All I will remember is that this driver was a friend. He made my trip more
enjoyable, less stressful and definitely more interesting. 10-3. If you're a trucker, you'll know what that means.
